B&E
by Inks Inc
Summary: "Can't we negotiate this? Like reasoned and reasonable adults?" As he spoke, Neal was hastily backing away from a stealthily advancing Peter, his hands raised in rueful chagrin. Eying the bartering genius like a lion stalking his prey, Agent Burke didn't answer." Neal's spot of breaking and entering hasn't gone unnoticed by the exasperated Agent Burke. WARNING: Spanking. One-Shot.


"Can't we negotiate this? Like reasoned and reasonable adults?" As he spoke, Neal was hastily backing away from a stealthily advancing Peter, his hands raised in rueful chagrin. Eying the bartering genius like a lion stalking his prey, Agent Burke didn't answer as he continued to walk with a quiet gate towards his target. Neal couldn't quite help the chink that appeared in his suave cover as Peter began to silently uncuff and roll up the sleeve of his right arm. His stalling techniques were failing him and they were failing him badly. He needed to up his game. "Peter. Look, there's really no need for such a barbaric solution to such a little problem."

Agent Burke cocked his head as he continued to advance and as Neal continued to retreat.

"Did you just call me a barbarian, Neal?"

Cursing his verbiage, the artist flashed a brilliantly wide smile and shrugged a nonchalant shrug. "What's a pet name between friends?" Securing his shirt so that his arm was completely free, Peter shook his head slowly. "I'm not planning on being all that friendly for the next ten minutes or so. Now, I want you to quit all this pointless stalling and huffing. You knew what you were doing when you did it; you knew what would happen when I caught you. So how about we get to it, no sense in dragging it out." With that, he stopped his advance, satisfied he had Neal physically where he wanted him. The armchair in the corner of the Burke living room had become increasingly adept at absorbing the tears of his incorrigible protégé as he was chastised upon it.

He sat in it with a firm frown and crooked a finger to the miserable looking kid.

"Get your backside over here this second. I have some business to conduct with it."

About three to four steps away from his irate handler, Neal gulped. He didn't want to bring his backside anywhere near Peter's unyielding hand. He knew he shouldn't have snuck into his office. And he knew he shouldn't have searched in his desk for the file Peter was preparing on him for his commutation hearing. And he definitely knew he shouldn't have practiced Agent Burke's handwriting, ready to make any alterations he deemed fit. It was also a rare bout of stupidity for him to bring a sheet of his prepped and forged signatures with him as a reference point.

Of course that was how Peter had found him.

Hunched over the commutation file with a sheet of perfect Agent Burke forgeries beside him.

Neal had been genuinely concerned that he was going to have a rage induced stroke.

"Get _over_ here or I will come and get you and you won't like it, trust me."

Peter's irate barking broke into Neal's hesitant state of horror. He was still hopping mad and he knew that was going to translate into a hopping sensation every time he sat. He felt bad, really bad. He really did. He just didn't see what good feeling physically bad as well as emotionally, was going to do. He'd tried everything on the stony car ride home to assuage his handler's ire. It had been to no avail. It didn't help the squirming guilt in Neal's gut that the file Peter had been preparing had been…incredible. "I'm sorry," he suddenly heard himself saying in his real voice. Not his smooth show man's voice, but his true voice. "I shouldn't have done what I did. I just…I didn't want to be blindsided at the hearing. Didn't want to get my hopes up if…" he trailed off awkwardly and took a deep breath.

"I should have had more trust in you and I'm really sorry I broke yours in me." Peter stared for a moment, some of his anger dipping away at the sorrow and truth in the kid's words. He knew it was the self reliance in Neal that had driven his actions, but he couldn't pretend they hadn't hurt. A quick pow-wow with his wiser wife had given him a slightly calmer perspective. Neal had gone his whole life taking care of himself, she'd reminded him, he wasn't used to outside help or influence.

"Thank you Neal," he heard himself saying quietly, "I accept your apology and I believe you. I know why you did what you did, but it was still inexcusable. Both professionally and personally. You know better than to _ever_ break into my office and you damn sure know better than to think about forging my name. I'm not going to put up with it, no matter how understandable it is. You are learning to take responsibility and accountability for your own actions and you've been doing well. Now however, it seems that you need another little lesson in action and consequence." He patted his knee and adopted a firm stance. "So for the third and last time, get over here and let's get this taken care of."

Neal groaned at the lecture and the impending doom.

"Can't you just make me file reports? You know I hate filing reports."

Peter snorted.

"No, I don't think so. You know the rule. I treat you like how you act. You want to act like a boundary devoid and snoopy little brat, Neal? Fine. That is exactly how I will treat you. And when I was a boundary devoid and snoopy little brat, my father lit my backside up for me like a Christmas tree. And I intend to do the same for you. Your agreement isn't required, but your compliance is. Do not make me come over there and get you. _Now, come here."_

Still, the kid didn't move. Except to shake his head in the vigorous negative.

Peter's nostrils flared.

"Right, that's it," he snapped as he rose. Closing the distance between them in seconds he had a firm grip on Neal's upper arm before he could see it coming. Guiding him firmly back to the chair, Peter reached back as they walked and swatted the boy firmly on the behind with every step. His indignant squawking could probably be heard all the way down the block by the time they reached the dreaded armchair. Sitting back down and glaring up at his maddening charge, Peter took a deep breath and tried not to respond to his wounded eyes.

"Put your hands on your head."

Neal paled but realised he'd pushed his defiance too far and slowly, grudgingly, complied.

Wasting no time, Peter reached up and within a blink of an eye had Neal's expensive slacks sloping down to his knees. Within another second, his astonished charge was ass up over his knee having his equally expensive shorts pulled down to meet his slacks. Taking advantage of the kid's shock, Peter quickly wrapped a tight arm around his waist and drew him close. "When you don't do as I tell you for the third and fourth time, you lose the right to any protection over your pants," he answered the unspoken and outraged question. "Next time, maybe you'll get your backside over my knee when I tell you to."

He rested a hand on the pale behind as Neal muttered furiously under his breath.

"You're going to get a seriously red backside for this. I am absolutely going to tear you up, I mean it. You will never do something like this again. I will not tolerate it. In addition to your spanking, you're also on house arrest. Two weeks. No radius, no nothing. Work and home, rinse and repeat." He sighed as Neal stiffened in rage. "No point sulking, you brought this on yourself. I had half a mind to send you out for a switch, only El wouldn't hear of it. So I don't want any dramatics from you. You can go ahead and count yourself lucky as a matter of fact." Before Neal could really appreciate the absolute absurdity of that statement, his punishment had begun. Peter was a patient and kind man, but he was a stickler for rules and the consequences of breaking those rules. His hand cracked down upon the bare backside over his lap without hesitation.

A fiery red handprint instantly implanted on the milky skin.

Hissing as the force of the first swat and the very obvious loss of any protection, Neal knew he was in for it. And he was right. Peter's hand fell fast and hard as he launched into the reprimand. He spanked in uneven numbers, never giving the kid a chance to anticipate what was coming. He held him close when he peppered the same spot over and over again with stinging swats. He tore into the prone sit spots with gusto, determined to make sitting an unpleasant experience for his reprobate. Within a minute and with the room singing with the sounds of Neal's brisk punishment, the bottom under his hand was a dull red. The odd hiss and loud yelp accompanied the blistering pace as Neal began to squirm under the much firmer than usual spanking.

Peter merely held him tighter and painted his bottom even redder.

"You deserve this," he said firmly as he concentrated on the fleshy part of Neal's butt. "I want you think about that while you're lying there. You deserve every single lick because you know better and you _are_ so much better. I want you to think about that. I want you to really think about that." As Neal's eyes began to burn with tears, he thought this was an impossible task. He could barely remember his own name as the sting in his tail reached unbearable levels. He gasped as the intensity kept up and as the swats kept coming. This was definitely one of the hardest and longest spankings Peter had ever dished out.

As a seriously snappy swat landed on the tender curve of his thighs, he gave in.

Weeping quietly, he allowed the images of Peter's disappointed face when he'd caught him to flood his mind. He allowed the kind words written about him to ring in his ears. He stopped trying to squirm away from the punishing hand; instead, he lay limply underneath it, knowing he had it coming. He stopped trying to be stoic and brave and allowed the impact of it all to hit him like a truck. Peter's thighs were warm and soft underneath him, just like he was, and somehow that made him feel worse. His weeping was broken and wretched as his behind continued to suffer for the foolishness of his mind.

And then it was over.

He didn't even feel his shorts being gently pulled back up over a flamingly scarlet and well punished behind. He did feel the warm hand on his back though, and he did hear the soft voice above him. He couldn't quite make out what those words were, but he had an idea. He didn't try and move, knew it wasn't required, not yet. Tears continued to stream down his flushed face as he grappled with finding his breath. After a few moments, breathing came slightly easier and the tears became more sluggish until there were no fresh fallers. The soft hand continued to card along his back and the quiet voice continued to ring out overhead. He found comfort in those two things but he was suddenly very aware of his prone position.

And he scrambled up off of Peter's knee with a yelp and a hiss.

Using the discreet moment that the older man turned away to pull down his short sleeve to full use, Neal yanked back up his slacks with another groan as the brushed against his burning behind. Fumbling with the clasp for a moment, he sighed in relief when he was once again fully dressed. Pushing his clammy fringe from him face and rubbing a hand across his red eyes, he didn't realise he about broke Peter's heart as he moved slowly towards him. The hand on both of his shoulders was heavy and warm and Neal slowly tore his gaze up to meet Agent Burke's.

He sniffled.

"M'sorry."

Peter smiled fondly.

"I know, son. I know."

They glanced at each other for a moment before Peter couldn't contain himself any further. He reached out and pulled the red faced and repentant Neal into a bear hug. Rubbing a hand up and down his back, he smiled when Neal melted into the hug, resting his hot face on his shoulder. "You took that very well," he praised quietly, "I'm proud of you buddy. Slate is clean again. New page. Ok?" Releasing his charge who was smiling his small genuine smile, he reached up and ruffled the thick hair with a grin.

" _Ok?"_

Slapping the hand away from his pristine hair, Neal scowled a shallow scowl as he patted the black locks into place. Rolling his eyes, Peter threw his head towards the soft sofa. "Why don't you lie down for a bit and I'll see if there's any of that outrageously expensive ice cream in the freezer?" Brightening slightly, Neal moved slowly and despairingly towards the couch, eliciting an exasperated and fond sigh from Peter. Setting himself down like bone china and a muffled yelp, Neal glared. "Easy for you blow air all around the place, I'm the one with the broken ass."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes twinkling.

"I spanked you, I didn't crucify you. Don't be a drama queen."

Neal huffed and puffed like a blowfish.

"Can be a drama queen if I want to be a drama queen," he muttered under his breath.

Turning back from his detour into the kitchen, Peter took care in examining his hand under the light.

"What was that, Neal?" he asked sweetly.

Gulping with wide blue eyes, the reforming con shrugged with an adorable smile that Peter's defences were woefully unprepared to deal with.

"I said I'll take that ice cream now, thanks."

…..

Random one-shot.

…..


End file.
